Long Totem Poems
Long Totem Poems. Below are the most popular long Totem by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Totem poems by poem length and keyword.
In deep of forest he roams with might
A silken coat flaring through eve’s air;
When moon casts boldness on a steed’s rite
To journey free… far as runes declare,
My horse totem enkindling power
Directing flights in my younger days --
Where carousels merry blessed the hour
This kinship granting me strength, ablaze:
Flows his mane of auburn, a crown’s hue
Resting kindly on marshes of land;
A character known just to a few
Is grace of friendship time could withstand :
My spirit guide runs wild, yet he’s tame
For vision of light two of us hold
Through tenderness or speed, we inflame
One hearth beaming on raced dreams…consoled!
~o~
For Dear Heart's Spirit Animal Contest
6/3/2020
In the vast expanse of distance, where geography stretches out like an endless canvas, I feel your presence, a gentle whisper that caresses my soul, even though you're a thousand miles away.
Every second, every minute, every hour, and every day, my longing for you grows, a crescendo of yearning that echoes through the chambers of my heart. I miss the soft whisper of your voice, the radiant glow of your smile, and the warmth of your loving gaze.
Oh, to be able to defy the laws of gravity, to spread my wings and soar through the skies, to land where you are, and wrap my arms around you, holding you close, feeling your heartbeat against mine.
When I close my eyes, I see your face, a vision of beauty that haunts me, a reminder of the love we share. Your image is etched in my mind, a constant presence that guides me through the trials and tribulations of life.
You are the melody that fills my heart with joy, the harmony that makes my soul sing. Your beauty is a work of art, a masterpiece that increases with every passing day, because you are always smiling, your lips curving upwards in a gentle, loving smile.
I love you back and forth, a love that is reciprocal, a love that grows with every passing moment. I cherish the way you call me by my totem, a term of endearment that speaks of respect and affection.
You have become my everything, the missing piece that makes me whole. You are the reason I wake up in the morning, the source of my strength, my guiding star. I need you every day, and I crave your love, your touch, your presence.
You are my breathing angel, my forever joy and happiness. Without you, life would be dull and meaningless. With you, every day is a gift, a treasure to be cherished and savored.
I love you more than words can express, more than any poem or song can convey. You are the music that fills my soul, the rhythm that makes my heart beat. Forever and always, my love.
The native American and the paleface
Each claiming ownership over the place
For three hundred years they’d been fighting the fight
But peace would be parleyed later that night
Senators; soldiers; a chieftain or two
Agreed to talk peace by a moon that was new
Privates stood guard ’gainst rebellious gun
In the Comanche camp at the down of the sun
My orders were only to tend the camp fire
There would be no talking if it should expire
No parley, no peace-pipe, no fun and no frolic
It seemed that the fire was somehow symbolic
Alas I slipped up and the fire went out
I looked for more wood, there was nothing about
I stared at those grey lifeless ashes, agog
But then I laid eyes on that one massive log
Well I had been schooled but I didn’t learn
If - smothered with paint - wood can still burn
It’s something I really knew little about
But did know of only one way to find out
I chopped it and sawed it and relit the fire
I’d managed to stave off the Comanche’s ire
I felt pretty smug having just saved the day
And smiled as the Comanche chief came my way
Paleface, he said, you watch ancestral flame
It is, like our Totem Pole... sacred the same
To Comanche, fire is the heart and the soul
Well I had to ask... Totem pole???
I come from the borough of Queens, New York
My classmates call me a Klutz and a dork
Those names pervaded my soul, taking a toll
Being at the bottom of the totem pole.
Then Dad took me to the town of Tortilla Flat
I walked into a store, bought a ten-gallon hat
I started talking like John Wayne, also bought some boots
It’s funny how a costume can make a mind slip its roots
The ranchers nodded with respect; I looked like them
Cowgirls smiled in my direction, one shone like a gem
She said there’s a rodeo at half past three
Come join us there, my friends and me.
I said sure, I’ll mosey down there
I’ll bring some popcorn that we all can share
When the time came, I walked into the ring
But through the wrong door, that was the thing.
Two guys lifted me onto a horse, and opened the gate
I shouted, “I’m not a performer!” but it was too late
The horse bolted out, then tried a somersault
I held on for dear life, couldn’t them girls call a halt?
They told me later, t’was the worst horse in the west
I flew over its mane, but it was a personal best
The crowd went wild, but I threw the hat on the mud
Dropped all the popcorn, wiped off the blood
The cowgirl looked adoring, said “that was so cool”
I looked at her, but my mood was cruel
Said “I’m a nerd from Queens, don’t want to pretend
Keep that dang hat, this all got to end."
Dad took me home, the worse for wear
He got me a baseball hat so nobody would stare.
I put it on backwards, I don’t really care
Buy the wrong hat, and it’s dangerous out there.
I jumped out of a cold bed after a rather disturbing keen dream
I was standing in front of a corpulent old white horse, teeth clearly seen.
Pompous orange mane, and a patronizing shake of an empty horse head
Woke me up with visions of him plowing me into a ground, big and mean.
I was standing in front of him, trying to get him to stop.
He shook his orange mane, and he pushed ‘til I dropped.
I landed in a hole with a whole bunch of others,
Fathers, grandmas, cousins, sisters and brothers.
They built a human totem pole and snatched me to the top.
I watched the horse chew up black and white, old and young.
He threw them into buildings, and he plowed them into holes.
He grabbed some young ones from their mothers,
and taped them to some poles.
I watched as his corpulent fat cells laughed,
turning this horse into something certifiable.
In fact White Horse looked much more pig-like now,
this was completely undeniable.
A bald eagle flew by, holding an American flag.
Filling me with a tiny bit of hope.
That horse took out an assault rifle and
riddled it with bullets, that big fat ugly dope.
So I crawled back into the hole,
and we covered it up with our sorrow.
Perhaps my dream will be better
after he leaves Time Square tomorrow.
The Totem ©
The totem speaks of the tribe’s history, lore,
deeds of courage
Animals, fish and gods
carved in reverence,
from a fallen tree hundreds of years old,
living wood, with a face, a fish,
a bear, a bird marching down it’s trunk,
a seemingly random sprinkle of
obelisks in a circle,
tells of incredible faith true enough
to move tons of stone
Totems today, statuary in the front garden,
wooden rooster atop the mail box,
the weather vane dressed in
golden green patina.
Carvings of flowers,
frolicking baby squirrels and
rabbits on a sign at the front door,
A mural brushed upon a barn wall,
the flag of a beloved country,
the lone star of a beloved state,
the wind chimes of dolphins, stars, frogs, and spoons
capturing the breeze,
singing a song of welcome
Tribes today paint their vehicles in much the same way
that the People painted their sturdy, brave little horses
before a battle
Circles of paint about the eyes for truer vision,
hand prints on shoulder and flank to ward off the spear,
ornaments braided into mane and tail
to celebrate victory
Bumper stickers, magnetic ribbons,
all totems to tell members
of other tribes what is believed in,
what the tribe stands for;
support this, hate that,
down with this, up with that
proud to be a redneck,
a woman,
a boater,
a parent,
a fisherman,
a politician,
a farmer,
a dancer,
a soldier,
an Aggie,
a sailor,
an Irishman,
a lover of guns.
Trisha Sugarek
Butterflies and Bullets
You are the totem, simply told,
In man and mountain lore
Pillared tall, your spirit thrives
Where myths and legends soar –
Among the ravens where they fly,
With creed held fast in hand,
You speak the language of the earth;
You sound the depths of man
And grasp the wisdom of the pearl
Fashioned in the sea,
Calling for the conch to voice
The truth you know to be –
A monolith of latitudes,
With grace not undermined,
Lamenting as the deaf and dumb
Are handled by the blind,
You wear the scars of battles waged
Across the centuries
And grant the bearer of your wounds
The marks of history –
Where now you stand, you now arise
To face the rising tide;
You see the quiet burning sun;
You hear the ocean’s cry
Raise now your silent, muted voice!
Lift up your hooded eyes!
Let loose the chains that time has forged
Where truth and beauty lie –
Exalt us with your noble height!
Bestir the waking land!
Totem, in your boundless grace,
Call forth a better man –
One dark, blustery night with storm clouds thickening
I peeked out of my window, but couldn’t see a thing
My hands cupped as blinders, and squinting very hard
A brilliant flash of lightening lit up a dark graveyard
The sky became a lightening show and thunder it did roll
Displaying in that graveyard a massive totem pole
It boasted such a dignity and stood there as a guard
Crested with an eagle that watched the whole graveyard
Storm clouds threaten to explode with tears of lament
For all buried in that graveyard is to someone heaven sent
Dad got back into the car as the angels began to cry
We drove from that graveyard under the eagle’s watchful eye
Each night before I sleep, lying in my bed
With exciting sights of the day dancing in my head
The memory I recall the most, the one I can’t discard
Is a flat tire on a stormy night, totem pole and graveyard
Randy Steele
August 13, 2011
Weeds and grass grow in the cracks
of sun-faded, crumbling pavement,
a parking lot that once was full
of stressed parents and cowboys nascent.
A grand sign over the entry
now is rotted two-thirds away,
this old piece of my childhood
truly has seen better days.
It was an old-west town once,
where we learned of the frontier,
now the totem pole is fallen down,
brings to my eye a sad tear.
The old Indian village, long gone,
is now just some concrete pads,
not the grand teepees I explored
back when I was just a lad.
The cavalry fort once rose proud,
a solid wall of rough-hewn logs,
now one rampart remains, broken,
sinking into a nearby bog.
It’s old flagpole still stands tall,
but Old Glory no longer flutters,
trash and graffiti lie about,
the whole place looks like a gutter.
And up at the bank where long ago
the ‘bandits’ always struck ad two,
I can recall how kids with cap guns
always ‘made’ them drop their loot.
Nearby is the big stable
where families could take trial rides,
the roof is gone, it’s been ten years
since any horse was inside.
Finally I see the arena
where rodeo riders ran wild,
wrestling steers, breaking a bronc,
clinging to a bull with style.
The old stands are half-collapsed,
the corral is full of small trees,
hard to believe it ever enrapt
young children in such revelry.
Some say it was P.C. parents
afraid of imaginary strife,
some say the Hollywood now
can’t make a western to save their life.
Others say that the owners died,
and their kids didn’t want to load,
whatever the reason, it was sad
the day the old-west town closed.
I hear that there are now big plans
to turn it all into a park,
a taxpayer-funded state debacle,
as such projects usually are.
They have their designs but we all
know what should really be done,
it should be rebuilt so that our kids
have a place to run ’round with cap guns.
…is a cat not the totem of love
your physical contact generates feelings
were the neurons release
the feeling for good vibes
peace, harmony
by stroking soft gentle fur
strong n deep is the purr
serenity brings your heart
to idle
cools your feelings
you relax
you love your cat
the best as you can
but like beautiful rose thorns
can cut like razors
so can the claws of a cat...
love can turn, hurt, bite, flee...
cutting deep!
And just like that your cat is gone
Running
to somewhere
or someplace
to someone else…
And only the echoes of little pads are left!